


Reaching Out

by writingreels (themonstrousregiment)



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonstrousregiment/pseuds/writingreels
Summary: It was 3am and, as usual, Virgil was awake. The others had gone to bed hours ago. Even Thomas, who was known to stay up just as late as Anxiety, was in a deep and dreamless slumber.The mindscape was blissfully quiet, just as Virgil liked it. No exuberant outbursts from Patton, no endless nattering from Logan, and definitely no spontaneous singing from Roman.





	Reaching Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for sanders sides, and the first fic I've written in about 3 years. I really enjoyed writing it, and I hope some of you enjoy reading it. 
> 
> It's also posted on my tumblr, a-blog-just-for-writing.tumblr.com.

It was 3am and, as usual, Virgil was awake. The others had gone to bed hours ago. Even Thomas, who was known to stay up just as late as Anxiety, was in a deep and dreamless slumber.

The mindscape was blissfully quiet, just as Virgil liked it. No exuberant outbursts from Patton, no endless nattering from Logan, and definitely no spontaneous singing from Roman.

Truthfully, Virgil didn’t strictly mind their company. Patton was a funny guy, and his dad jokes never failed to make Virgil smile, even when he was feeling grumpy and sour from a sleepless night of anxious worrying. And while Logan had a habit of explaining everything he’d learned that day in excessive detail, from the plot of a new book to the mating habits of crickets, he was also a surprisingly calming presence, and had helped talk Virgil down when he was feeling particularly paranoid or stressed.

Even Roman had been trying recently, since their emotional heart-to-heart in Anxiety’s room. He had even tried talking to Virgil during breakfast that morning, complimenting his headphones. It had been awkward, to say the least. Even thinking about trying to hold a civil conversation with him made Virgil feel nervous.

Not that talking with Patton or Logan wasn’t nerve-wracking, far from it.

It was tricky, picking up on social cues or knowing when it was okay for him to sit and just listen. Sometimes they’d ask him questions, and his words would just dry up, or he’d become flustered and retort something sarcastic without meaning to.

It was in his nature to be reclusive, to need time alone, even if he usually spent most of his time alone fighting off his own paranoia.

When he did want company though, when the darkness of his room became too much even for him, he knew that Patton and Logan would be there.

Both Patton and he were the emotional sides of Thomas’ personality, like two sides of the same coin – despite their differences, and Patton’s endless enthusiasm, he had a way of knowing when Anxiety needed a hug or a distraction, and when he needed space and time to breathe.

And Logan, when he wasn’t buried in a book or his laptop, was the most observant of all the sides. At first, it had made Virgil feel uncomfortable, vulnerable, knowing that Logan could tell with a look when he’d had a bad night or just needed to be around people, to not feel alone, but now it was comforting, knowing he didn’t have to explain himself if he suddenly had to flee to his room in the middle of breakfast.

Roman was different.

Roman was loud noises and singing and creativity. He was a dreamer, full of hope and an insatiable urge for adventure and exploring the unknown.  

In a nutshell, he was Virgil’s opposite.

Sometimes it was hard exchanging a civil word, beyond ‘pass the sugar,’ without it devolving into bickering and namecalling – and the inevitable scolding by Patton or eyeballing from Logan.

And while Virgil didn’t always mean to rile him up, watching Roman’s face go red with frustration was just sometimes far too entertaining to give up.

But things were different now. Roman was obviously trying, and Virgil would need to try too – even though the thought of opening up, of making himself vulnerable, made him want to stay in his room for the foreseeable future.

He would try though. The others had come to find him when he’d ducked out, when he was at his worst and was ready to give up, and even though it was he who had to rescue them in the end, it was their words which had dragged him from his isolation.

They’d reached out, and now he would reach back.

Virgil frowned at his laptop. Staying up late always gave him too much time to think.

But he could feel his eyelids drooping, and his anxious thoughts were quieting down under the smothering weight of exhaustion.

He glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen.

04:05.

It was later than he thought.

With a sigh, he closed his laptop and crawled under his bedcovers. Cocooning himself in heavy warm blankets, he slowly drifted to sleep. Tomorrow, he’d work out how to reach out to Roman. In the meantime, sleep.

_What’s wrong with you?_

Virgil jolted awake, heart racing. What was that?

_You’re useless!_

It was…anxiety?

It was a thought, but not his. Was it Thomas? Was he having a nightmare? But Anxiety had been sleeping, he hadn’t even been dreaming – how could Thomas be feeling anxious? Virgil briefly focused his mind on Thomas. But he was sleeping soundly, drained from a long day of editing.

But if it wasn’t coming from Thomas, then where?

Virgil concentrated, feeling the outer bounds of his room in his mind. He lived in the darker part of Thomas’ mind, and any anxious thoughts or feelings could eventually be traced back to his domain.

_Why do you even try?_

There! A thread of anxiety, spooling out from his room and to somewhere else in the mindscape. But where was it going? Closing his eyes, Virgil grabbed the thread and tugged.

With a jolt, Virgil was no longer in his bed, but in a foggy landscape. It was dark, and cold, and the fog was thick like soup. Somewhere he could hear water dripping, and the air was heavy with fear.

It was a nightmare.

For a moment, Anxiety considered turning back and returning to his bed. If it wasn’t Thomas’ nightmare, he must be in the mindscape of one of the other sides. What if they found him here? Would they be angry? Would they hate him for invading their privacy? What if they decided they didn’t need him after all? That he was just a nuisance, who was holding Thomas and everyone else back?

What if they blamed him for their nightmare?

He should leave. Now.

Anxiety turned on his heel, ready to teleport back to his bed.

But what if they needed him?

He hesitated.

He’d always tried to protect Thomas from everything and everyone that could hurt him, and he always would. It was who he was. He made Thomas stress and worry so he would be ready to flee from the danger and the monsters in the world – and he would be there to help fight them if he couldn’t flee.

The others were part of Thomas too. One part of the bigger whole.

And they needed him.

Virgil made up his mind. He took a step forward, and another.

“Hello?” his voice echoed in the fog, “…is anyone here?”

Suddenly the fog parted, revealing a lone figure curled up on the floor. His arms were wrapped tightly around his legs, and his shoulders were slumped forward, his head buried in his knees.

Virgil’s heart lurched at the familiar scene, and he strode forward, his own fear falling away. He stopped in front of the figure and crouched down beside him.

“Roman?”

Except for the faint movement of his chest, Roman didn’t react.

 “Roman? Can you hear me?”

Roman’s shoulders clenched.

Virgil hesitated, and then reached out.   

“Roman, it’s okay,” he rested a hand on his knee, “it’s me, Anx – Virgil.”

Slowly, as if his shoulders carried the weight of a world, Roman lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face was pale and colourless.

“…Anxiety?”

Virgil nodded, and tried a smile. It was difficult, in this gloomy place.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“…what – what’re you doing here?”

Virgil’s smile dropped. What if Roman was angry?

“Anxiety?”

He would have to be honest.

“…well, you kind of – “

_Why are you so stupid?_

Roman flinched and ducked his head down, hiding his face.

That voice again. But where? Virgil looked around, and for the first time he noticed another figure in the distance. He was shrouded in fog, but as he walked forward the fog parted. He wore the same outfit as Roman, from his shiny boots to the red sash on his shoulder, but his face was swathed in shadow.

_You’re such an idiot._

The figure didn’t open his mouth, but the voice was clearly his.

Roman began to shiver.

_You should just stop trying._

The fog parted again, and another figure slowly walked forward. Like the first, he was dressed like Roman – he even walked like Roman – but his face was in shadow.

_You’re a waste of space._

Another figure.

Virgil heard Roman take a shaky breath, and saw his hands clench tightly onto the fabric of his tunic.

_No one wants to hear your stupid voice or your stupid ideas._

A fourth figure strode forward.

Roman began to breathe heavily. His face was still buried in his knees, but Virgil could hear him struggling, knew from seeing his trembling shoulders that Roman’s chest was tight and painful, that the air was getting thick and soupy and the fear was building.   

The shadowy figures were walking slowly, their steps measured, but they were getting closer and closer. Virgil’s heart began to race, but he took a deep breath and shook off his own fear. He knew without a doubt what he needed to do.

“Roman, look at me.”

Roman flinched and shook his head.

_You think you’re a hero? You’re a failure._

Roman’s next breath caught in his throat, trapped, and suddenly he was hyperventilating, and the figures were getting closer and closer.

“Roman,” Virgil reached forward and grabbed his shoulder, “You’re safe, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Roman shook his head again, clenching his hands tighter.

“I know it’s hard, trust me _I know._ But you need to look at me, okay?”

Slowly, Roman lifted his head. His breaths were heavy and laboured, and his face was wet with tears.

Virgil nodded and gave a shaky smile.

“That’s it, look right at me.”

_You think anyone really cares about what you have to say?_

Roman twitched, and half-turned to glance at the approaching figures.

“No, don’t look at them,” Virgil said, before Roman could look away, “I need you to look at me. We’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

“…how…?” Roman gasped for breath.

“This is just a nightmare. It’s not real. None of it is.”

Roman shook his head, “But…”

“It’s a nightmare, and you’re the dreamer, remember? You can get us out of this.”

_No one cares about you._

Roman recoiled, “I can’t….”

“You can. I know you can,” Virgil grabbed Roman’s hand and placed it on his chest, “You feel my heartbeat?” Roman nodded hesitantly, “I’m not scared, and you don’t have to be either, okay?”

“…okay.”

“Good. Remember what I did with Thomas? When you were in my room? We’re going to do the same now. Breathe in for four seconds.”

Roman took a deep breath.

“That’s good. Now hold it for seven seconds.”

His chest stilled, and slowly his eyes fell closed.

“Now breathe out for eight seconds. That’s great.”

Roman’s shoulders began to relax. Out of the corner of his eye, Virgil saw the figures beginning to fade, once again absorbed by the fog.

“That’s it, keep going.”

Slowly the fog began to fade to white. Virgil felt the thread of anxiety he had followed from his room fade away, as the sound of Roman’s steady breathing filled the air.

“You’re doing great – “

-

Virgil jerked awake. He was in the living room of the commons, kneeling on the floor. Beside him, Roman lay curled up on the sofa, the static from the TV lighting his face in shades of grey and white. He must have fallen asleep watching Disney movies again.

Slowly, Roman’s eyes fluttered open. He looked around the room, sleep rumpled and confused, and then he spotted Anxiety beside him and startled.

“Anxiety! What are you doing here?”

He didn’t remember. That was probably for the best.

Virgil raised a brow and smirked, “Came to watch you drool in your sleep.”

“Wait – what?!” Roman’s hand quickly went to his jaw, self-conscious.

“Ha, got you Princey,” Virgil pulled himself to his feet, “but next time, sleep in your own room. Patton won’t be happy if you catches you sleeping on the sofa.”

With a final smirk, Virgil turned to leave. He was almost at the door when Roman called out.

“Wait, Anxiety. Were you – did you?”

Virgil tensed.

“Were you in my dream?”

His heart started to race. This was it. Roman was going to be angry, and he was going to shout, and Virgil would have to run to his room because he couldn’t deal with this, not now, not after seeing those shadows and seeing Roman curled up and so scared, and he was going to be in so much trouble –

No. Stop. Breathe. Roman didn’t know, not for certain.

“Pfft, me, in your dreams? As if, Sir Sing-along.”

There, that’d throw him off.

“You were, weren’t you? You were there with me, in the fog.”

Or maybe not.

He heard Roman stand up, his blankets falling to the floor.

“You rescued me…again. Why?”

Why? Why did he think?  

Virgil turned to face Roman, who was stood in front of the sofa, his arm half stretched forwards, as if he’d reached forward instinctively when Virgil had made to leave.

“It’s what I do, okay?” Roman looked shocked, and Virgil rolled his eyes, “I look out for Thomas, and you’re part of Thomas, so get used to it.”

Virgil turned to leave again, this time determined to get back to his room and to his bed, where he could hide and pretend this whole thing had never happened.

But then he stopped. He sighed, and crossed his arms, and with his back to Roman began to speak.

“Look, Pri – Roman. Everything those shadows were saying, whatever they were, everything they said wasn’t true, okay?”

Virgil took a deep breath.

“It was all lies. All of it. You’re not useless, you’re not a waste, and you’re not an idiot. Sure, you can be a little dim sometimes, but you’re important, okay? Patton is our heart, Logan is our brain, and you, you’re the dreams. You’re what keeps Thomas hoping for the future, what keeps him creating, and dreaming – you’re what makes Thomas…Thomas. You’re important. Don’t let any stupid shadows or nightmares tell you different, okay?”

Silence.

Virgil felt his shoulders tense up, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. It was time to leave.

“Okay, well, whatever. Goodnight.”

He was almost out of the door when he heard Roman’s voice, quiet and soft and grateful, like he’d never heard it before.

“Thank you Virgil.”

Virgil walked back to his room, and couldn’t hold back a small smile from lighting up his face.

Maybe this reaching out to Roman thing wouldn’t be so impossible after all.  


End file.
